I force a casual shrug. “You know how I am. Rafaele doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into by marrying me. I’ll drive him up the wall. I bet he’ll be sick of me soon.”
“Be careful with him. Please. He’s clever and dangerous. Far more than Papà. Don’t push his buttons.”
Oh, I’m planning on giving his buttons a serious workout, but I don’t want to worry Vale, so I say, “I’ll be careful.”
She gives me a wary look that says she doesn’t quite believe me. “If you need anything, just call me. Gemma and I are only a phone call away.”
We hug again before she goes to use the toilet, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I stare at myself in the mirror. A bride is supposed to feel beautiful on her wedding day. My hair is shiny and bright. My wedding dress is flattering. My jewelry is impeccable.
But I don’t feel beautiful.
I feel trapped.
The rest of the reception is a blur.
I pick at my food until it’s time for the first dance. Rafaele stands and helps me to my feet, his touch warm and steady. I move through it all in a trance. It doesn’t feel real. I’m someone’s wife.
Someone’s property.
More couples appear around us. There’s a flash of Vale and Damiano before they disappear behind other bodies.
My new owner stares down at me as he leads me across the dance floor.
I spend an entire song pressed up against his strong body, inhaling his crisp, masculine scent. His hand is low on my back, his pinky finger resting on the curve of my butt.
I think back to how he grabbed me in the limo, like he couldn’t help himself, and I swallow hard.
He wants me.
Despite knowing that I only married him to save my sister, he expects me to give myself to him willingly.
I frown. He could have taken whatever he wanted when I refused to kiss him in the limo. Physically, I don’t stand a chance against him. But for some reason, he didn’t.
He wanted me to admit that I enjoyed it. That I wanted him too.
I won’t give him that. Not tonight and not ever.
We finish the dance and return to our seats. It’s getting late. I eye the clock, sweating in anticipation of what’s to come. The wedding gown sticks to my skin. I lift my hair off my neck and hope for a breeze. It never comes.
I try not to look at my husband, but he’s impossible to avoid. He reaches for his wine, his thick, tanned fingers curling around the stem of the glass, and brings it to his lips. Veins run over the back of his hand and disappear under his shirtsleeve.
An image of him pushing those sleeves up his corded forearms flashes before my eyes. Something nervous and hot curls in the pit of my belly. I scrape my nails over my cheek, suddenly convinced I shouldn’t have drunk all that wine, because it’s wreaking havoc inside my mind.
He’s your enemy. Your jailer. Don’t give him what he wants. Don’t melt for him.
I shiver as he trails a hand down my back.
“We’ll leave in five minutes,” he says in a low voice.
I nod, my blood running hot inside my veins. I focus on my breathing and drink a full glass of water to cool down.
My resolve to resist him strengthens when we get up to leave and Rafaele’s men start jeering. “Bed her! Bed her! Bed her!”
Rafaele’s grip on my arm is tight as he leads me out of the reception hall and toward the large staircase. I keep my chin up and try to tune out the catcalls and the wolf whistles from his men.
We take the stairs to the second floor and stop before a bedroom at the very end of the hall. Rafaele opens the door and motions for me to enter.
I step onto a plush, blue carpet and move toward the center of the room. My gaze lands on the perfectly made bed with its crisp white sheets and a…red accent pillow.
The door closes behind me.
I stare at that mockery of a pillow as Rafaele’s hands land on my hips. He pulls my back against his front, and he’s all hard muscle beneath that suit. His lips fall to my throat, soft and teasing.
The sensations that follow momentarily stun me. My body comes alive, buzzing at each careful stroke of his tongue against my flesh.
I’m also quite good at other things.
My nipples tighten.
Push him away.
He palms one of my breasts and makes a satisfied sound at the back of his throat that makes a pulse appear between my legs. And then he closes the tiny bit of space left between our lower bodies and lets me feel every hard inch of him against my ass.
Oh fuck.
His fingers slide into my hair. He turns my head sideways, leans down, and claims my lips, pushing his tongue inside my mouth. There’s a tug on the top button of my dress as he begins to undress me.